Just Shoes

I even remember what I was wearing the night I purchased those shoes. A small white dress that blew softly in the breeze, pearl earrings, and bare feet. I stood in front of that shop window, the one I had been glancing in every couple of moments, waiting for it to happen. It was evening; the chilly air had left me temporarily uncomfortable until a pair of arms was wrapped around me. “It’s okay,” he said.

Through the window I could see my friends, and I observed each one independently. One of my best friends stood admiring a shimmering pair of heels on her feet; she looked so naturally sophisticated in them. They fit her beautifully; she looked as if she had been born a woman, not a girl. My other best friend stood, having fun in her bright and colorful heels, still looked a little wobbly but I knew she’d grow into them. Another friend of mine sat in the corner, head buried in her hands in regret, the broken shoes on the floor beside her. I had told her not to buy them.

The ruby red pumps were still in the front window, calling out to me. I just stared at them, wondering. For a while there, I had stood in line with the rest of my friends, the ones who weren’t so experienced when it came to shoe buying. The sidewalk was full of them, all barefoot like me, but slowly the line dwindled. Most of them had already gone into the store, never to come out again. Only a few of my closest were left. “Lets come back later, Allison!” one of them said to me, her bright blue, childish eyes wide open. “Let’s go do something else.”

But he stood there, right next to me, holding on tight. “I can’t,” I told her. “Maybe later.” I still remember the look on her face, hurt and confused at why I would be entering this particular shoe store at such a time. Her eyes told me I was too young. I looked back at the red shoes and then up to him.

“I only want you to do it if you want to,” he said, and something in my head told me the sincerity in his expression was somewhat of a disguise. “I know that,” I replied distantly, staring in the window. The girls in there were smiling.

I looked down at my bare feet. I scrunched by toes up to make sure they were still there. I closed my eyes and remembered the way the ocean felt on them, the sand, and the grass in my back yard when I was growing up. The first time I painted nail polish on them; I looked down and thought I was so old. Its nothing like putting heels on to hide them, though.

His feet were bare, too. I was thankful for that at least. Both of us were still young, looking into that window at all our friends. I glanced back at the diminishing line of shoeless boys and girls, some eager to get ahead of us and others who seemed to rather spend their time playing childish games. Then I drew my eyes to the shimmering temptation in the store. The red shoes were beautiful, but came at a cost. The cost of losing my bare feet forever.

He took my hand like he had so many times before, and it took me back to our budding relationship, how young we were and so ignorant. It was different this time, like someone had taken all the air out of my lungs, it wasn’t right. “It’ll be alright. They’re just shoes,” he said as he led me through the doorway, our bare feet touching the ground for the last time. No, it was so much more than just shoes.

I thought it was very innovative and sweet. To me as a young girl high heels were like stepping from childhood into young womanhood. You put them on and the world seemed changed; you weren't a kid anymore--you'd become something far more sophisticated and worldly.

I think this was well written with beautiful imagery. I enjoyed it a lot.